


take an angel by the wings

by azfellbooksellers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Picnics, Smooching, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), THEY JUST LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH OKAY, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azfellbooksellers/pseuds/azfellbooksellers
Summary: After 6,000 years of active duty, one failed apocalypse, and SEVERAL weeks of lugging numerous plants and books from London to a quaint South Downs cottage, one angel and one demon deserve a little tenderness, don't they?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	take an angel by the wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Khiroptera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khiroptera/gifts).



> You kids like fluff? Quite extraordinary amounts of fluff? You're in the right place, then.

It was early October by the time they finished moving their things - really, Aziraphale’s things - into the tiny cottage off the beaten path in the South Downs. Crowley had made sure it was the very picture of pastoral living, an old brick facade with a rather large chimney and miles of vines creeping their way up and around the exterior. 

A stiff autumnal breeze blew in through the open front door as Crowley hauled the final box of books inside. It lapped at the sweat beading on his brow, a soothing balm to the flush of his skin. He grunted as the box began to slip from his fingers. Aziraphale simply wouldn’t stand to see any of his books damaged, so he grabbed at it frantically.

“I’ve got you, dear.” Aziraphale’s soft voice filled his ears as the box was lifted from his hands. The angel’s creamy forearms, visible with his sleeves pushed up to the elbow, flexed as he took on the considerable weight with ease. Crowley felt himself flush for an entirely new reason.

“Was that aimed at me or the books?” 

“You think you’re rather funny, don’t you?”

“Don’t think it. I know it.” Crowley rushed to open the door to the study for Aziraphale, and pressed a kiss to his dandelion curls as he passed through the threshold. “Which ones are these, anyway? They weigh a metric ton.” 

“Ah, it’s the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ , first edition.”

“What, all thirty volumes? Heaven’s sake, Aziraphale, are you trying to break my arms? No wonder the damn box is so heavy!” Crowley hopped up on the antique desk tucked into the corner and leaned back, arms splayed at either side.

“Of course not,” Aziraphale said as he bent at the waist to place the box down. Crowley bit his lip as the fabric of his pants stretched to accommodate the new angle of the plump arse situated beneath it. He turned his head to gaze over his shoulder. “It would certainly ruin my plans to break you tonight, don’t you think?”

Crowley leapt off the desk.

“Oi! You’re doing this on _purpose_ , aren’t you? Putting your strength on display, showing off your arse! You’re teasing me!”

“My dear, I’d never dream of it,” Aziraphale said as he straightened and walked towards him, throwing his arms around Crowley’s neck. The demon rolled his eyes and thumped his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale smiled and pressed a kiss against his cheek. 

“Well, that’s it. All of them. Now what?” He closed his eyes as Aziraphale ran his fingers through his hair softly. The angel had remarked some weeks ago about how lovely it looked when long, and he’d been letting it grow ever since. 

“Mmm. I think, after all that moving, we deserve some fun, don’t we?” Crowley hummed his agreement into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “Why don’t we go to the sea. Get to know our new home a bit, really wash the bustle of London from us?”

“Angel, the ocean is miles away. I could drive, though, if you’d like.” Crowley lifted his head to stare into Aziraphale’s eyes. He adored them, the way they changed and reflected and shifted in the light, roaming the spectrum from blue to green and back again. The lines around them, crinkling in delight whenever he took a bite of a decadent dessert, saw a plump babe in its mother’s arms, realized that Crowley had come to visit the bookshop with a bottle of vintage wine. Overwhelmed, he leaned in and kissed Aziraphale deeply and enjoyed the slide of lips over lips. 

“You’re caught in your thoughts again, aren’t you, dear,” Aziraphale asked when Crowley finally pulled back. He reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Crowley leaned into his hand, until the soft skin was holding his cheek in its grasp.

“‘Course I am. I’m looking at you, you git,” he explained. Aziraphale rubbed his thumb back and forth on his face.

“Let’s fly there. Spread our wings and soar, take it all in from above.” 

“You’re disgustingly romantic, you know that, don’t you?” He cracked a smile when the angel pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Let me look at those wings first, though.” Aziraphale groaned and backed away from him. 

“They’re perfectly fine, I’ll have you know. Tip top shape.”

“Tip top shape,” Crowley mimicked. “Bollocks. I bet they’re all out of sorts. You haven’t even looked at them since Tadfield. They need weekly looking after, angel, you know that.” 

Aziraphale groaned again and let himself be led to the living room by the hand, sinking down on the well loved settee that he’d lugged all the way from Soho. He closed his eyes and tugged on that immaterial, celestial plane that his wings rested in. They slipped into reality, and he sighed with relief, rolling his shoulders and neck. 

“Like I said,” Crowley drawled, “they’re a mess.” He ran his fingers lightly along the secondaries, taking in the silky softness of them. “All out of place.” 

Aziraphale shuddered at the first touch, his eyes slipping shut. It was a very particular sensation to have another touch your wings - resting somewhere between ticklish and soothing, but above all, wholly and completely intimate. Crowley really began to work then, digging his lithe fingers in and separating feather from feather. He smoothed them down gently after, precise as a surgeon. Aziraphale let his mind drift like a raft on the sea, and was washed to a distant, far off memory.

The taste of warm bread, figs, olives, and honey laced mead. A warm breeze on his skin, carrying the salty smell of sea water on its back. Crowley’s fingers entwined in his shoulder length hair, carefully weaving it into a crowned braid upon his head.

“This is _lovely_ ,” Aziraphale had said, face leaned back to catch the heat of the sun. “Is this why you like it so much when I do it?” 

“Mmm,” Crowley had replied. “That, and it’s a real pain to do it yourself.” 

“Lazy old serpent.” The demon chuckled then, and the angel couldn’t help but crack a wide smile of his own.

“Do you remember Greece?” Aziraphale opened his eyes and shook himself from the reverie. 

“As in...as in the entire country of Greece? Uh, yeah. Broadly speaking.” Huffing, Aziraphale looked over his shoulder with mild annoyance. 

“No, no. I mean the picnic on the beach, by the Aegean? You braided my hair.”

“Oh, right! Right. ‘S a lovely beach, that one. Crisp white sand and vibrant blue water. Didn’t care for the mead, though. Too sweet.” 

“This feels like that, you know.”

“And how is that?” Crowley had finished preening him by then, and relegated himself to simply running his fingers through the feathers lightly. 

“Safe. Comforting.” Aziraphale slowly tucked his wings away and turned on his hands and knees to face him. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s lips, pulling back for just a second to gaze at him, and then slotted their lips together again. His fingers found their purchase in the red locks as Crowley parted his mouth to let him in. They sat in silence, reveling in the quiet, tender moment. 

Finally, Crowley pulled back. 

“Let’s take that flight then, hmm?” Aziraphale nodded and stood, offering his hand to Crowley as he went. He pulled his wings into existence again and took a good, long look at them.

“Thank you for the preening, dear. You did a marvellous job.” Crowley rolled his eyes and ruffled Aziraphale’s curls with his hand. 

“Demon - can’t net good at the end of the day. Gotta keep it balanced.” Aziraphale fixed him with another one of those stares, to which Crowley stuck out his tongue. He sauntered into the kitchen and pulled open the empty picnic basket on the counter and began rummaging through the fridge and the cabinets. 

In a few moments, he had assembled a rather lovely lunch for them - a coronation chicken sandwich, a few individual sausage and egg pies, two types of pasties, the last slice of Victoria sponge, and a bottle of champagne. He placed two wine glasses on top, and shut the basket, slung it over his arm and turned around. Aziraphale sat primly at the table, gazing fondly at him.

“Like what you see?”

“Rather. And the food looked good, too.”

“Bastard,” Crowley said, and ignored the warmth gathering in his cheeks. “Anyway, won’t people find the sight of two man-shaped beings soaring through the skies odd? It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no, it’s two supernatural creatures recently laid off from their respective job titles?”

“No, because I don’t want them to, and so they won’t,” said Aziraphale, and that was that. 

Crowley grinned as they took off and angled upward. He’d always loved flying, whenever he could sneak a bit of it in. The weightlessness of it, and the feeling of the air running across his wings was like nothing else. He let Aziraphale take the lead, and was content to glide across the open sky on a clear afternoon, trailing after his rival-turned-lover. 

A few moments later, the channel’s waters came into view, and Aziraphale guided them to a soft landing on an empty bit of the beach.

“This will do nicely,” he said. Crowley bent and began to unpack the basket, laying out a thick blanket on the sand for them to rest on. It was a reasonably impressive spread, but he’d seen Aziraphale put bigger ones away with ease. 

He sat back and sipped his champagne while he watched Aziraphale dig in with delight. He’d never seen anybody else _eat_ like that. Aziraphale would break open a pie, miraculously still warm, and bring both halves up to his nose, his eyes closed in delight as the smell filled his senses. He would audibly sigh as he took a bite of a sandwich, delicate fingers curled carefully around it as if it were something of terribly high value. And he would wiggle. Crowley liked the wiggling very much.

“Well, that was lovely, my dear. Thank you.” Aziraphale popped the last bit of cake into his mouth and washed it down with a sip of champagne. He placed the plates and cutlery into the basket and turned to Crowley, who had finished the half sandwich he’d been working on. 

“Would you like to come here?” Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. The angel simply sat back and opened his legs, beckoning at him. A realization slid over him, and he put his glass down and crawled over to sink into Aziraphale’s lap. The sensation of a soft stomach pillowing his back was quite pleasing, and he let his head fall back onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. They watched the waves crest on the sand in silence for a few moments, before Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and gave him a good squeeze around the middle.

“You know, I think we’re going to be quite happy here. Don’t you?” Crowley leaned back into his embrace and allowed himself to relax even further. Here, on a quiet beach, with the threat of the Apocalypse behind them, nestled into his lover’s arms, he felt a calmness wash over him that he’d never quite felt before. A feeling of content that rivaled the softest sheets and the finest of drinks. 

He turned his head to find Aziraphale staring down at him, a gentle smile on his age worn face. Crowley raised a hand and caressed his soft cheek. He pulled him down for a kiss. This - this, they could do forever. After 6,000 years of hiding, and running, and fretting, they’d finally earned it. He felt as if he might burst at the sudden realization, and drew back to stare into Aziraphale’s eyes. Nobody had ever looked at him the way Aziraphale did, and he wanted it from nobody else. He ran his thumb across the pale skin beneath it, before dropping his hand and nestling his face against Aziraphale’s neck again.

“You know. I think you’re quite right,” he said, closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Only after finishing this did I realize that I included not one, but TWO whole ass picnics in a single one shot. Listen, hear me out - Crowley likes to watch the angel eat, and Aziraphale isn't going to deny him that. Or turn down a perfectly good meal. I regret nothing.
> 
> This is a little gift for Ivy, who is quite literally one of the kindest, funniest, most talented, and just all around GOOD people I have had the pleasure to know! A friend offered me a gift, and when I asked what I could do in return, the answer was simply "a fic for Ivy, if you'd like!" So, obviously the both of them are just total sweethearts. Real good gals, those two. Ivy, I hope this makes you smile!
> 
> Title is from Sia’s “Angel by the Wings”.


End file.
